Community – it comes in all forms: cities, towns, families, friendships. Here’s the “community” of a moment.
Over a Bag of Potting Soil
No doubt – this moment
bears it all: the chipmunk
that skitters along a road’s lip,
finding sanctuary in the darkness
gathering beneath a sewer grate,
the marigold you planted
in the mouth of an old sneaker,
and the purple Frisbee
on the garage shelf – it’s wedged
between a can of roofing nails
and the empty bottle of Merlot
that I’ve begun to fill with pennies.
This moment shoulders me, the bench
I rest on, its gray-weathered slats,
and the fragrance of curry seeping
from the neighbor’s kitchen window.
I’ll rest here, cast my weight
upon this scrap of time hoping
when mass and frame, sound and sense
are passed to the moment to come
you’ll still be leaning over a bag
of potting soil, preparing my old
work boots for a clutch of daisies
and the greens of rosemary and thyme.
Inspired by The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Idyllic.”